Missing
by Atropos' Knife
Summary: Sometimes you don't have to be gone to go missing. But for Ginji, absolutely nothing prepared him for the day a certain waitress finally decided to move on. GinjixNatsumi, one shot in two parts.
1. Honky Tonk Blues

"_**Missing"**_

**Disclaimer : **Yes, I am a GinjixNatsumi pimp. It's a weakness of mine so go ahead and kill me. But don't sue. For while I have but one life to give for the sake of this lame excuse of a fic, I absolutely have no money. Whatsoever. :D

**A/N : **Fluffy post-canon one-shot in two parts (uh, two-shot?) set a year after the end of the ongoing "Lost Time" manga arc. Contains details from both anime and manga-verse plus minor spoilers concerning Paul. Semi-AU, since with all the crack that's going on right now in Act 12? Anyone who can even remotely guess who's gonna survive; who's related to who; who or what the heck Akabane REALLY is; and what Pandora's box the three Keys are supposed to open - will win the whole Internet.

Hey, is this _"Lost"_ or what?

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

_**I.**_

_POP!_ Chorus of surprised, delighted gasps.

"Oh!" Mizuki Natsumi exclaimed, slightly jumping back as a cork sailed past her face and a fizzing cloud of bubbles gushed forth from the nozzle of a bottle and over Wan Paul's hand. He poured the effervescent drink into the glass flute she was holding.

The Honky Tonk owner put down the bottle of his best champagne on the bar, wiped his drenched hand on a rag, and slowly reached into his apron pocket for an envelope. Paul's gesture was as anxious and careful as that of a rookie surgeon deliberately lifting out a broken, still-beating heart. He slid the packet against the waitress's palm and gently curled her fingers around it.

"Your last paycheck -- and a little something extra that I hope will cover the cost of your books, or… or… whatever." Sheepishly, Paul's other hand grasped uncomfortably at his bandanna-covered redhead.

Speechless, Natsumi set her glass down on the scratched, well-worn counter she had lovingly cleaned and tended for nearly four years and gaped at the plain white envelope. She could vaguely make out the outlines of a check and a couple of folded sheaths of paper which she surmised was a hand-written farewell letter.

Her shiny chrome eyes drifted upwards to gaze at the wise, sadly smiling face of her now former employer, finally resting on the twin black abysses of his glasses. Natsumi knew not what secrets and sins and pains and curses were held within those enigmatic, hidden eyes; nor did she care. But even behind the convenient screen of his lenses, the young woman could swear Paul's eyes were softly misting over.

A tear of her own welled up which she tried to blink back, but it fell anyway. "Master, you shouldn't have." Natsumi sniffled. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry. However, intuition told her it was a vow that was fated to be broken, and sure enough, it was. Wiping the tear away with the side of her forefinger, she flew at the café owner and threw her arms around him.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for taking me in and giving me a job, and letting me meet all these wonderful people, and…" Natsumi mumbled into his apron. "…I'm going to miss all of you."

Paul patted her head, silently telling her she needn't say anymore. For a second, he worried about how a barely-sixteen-year-old waitress embracing her boss might be misconstrued as inappropriate behaviour. Apparently, he forgot that as of ten minutes ago, she was now the almost nineteen-year-old former employee; heading off to university to begin the next phase of her charmed, adult life.

No one noticed as Paul closed his eyes and felt his heart go heavy. He thought that for everything he'd been through, he was already immune to the sense of loss, having lost so much in his solitary life - time, partners, battles… opportunities. After all, hadn't that been the reason he gave up on his power and privilege to put up this hole-in-the-wall? A place where he would have nothing else to lose but money?

However, Natsumi's impending departure came as a sad reminder that even if what was lost could eventually be recovered, the feelings of loss would never totally be erased.

Natsumi, the high school waitress, would be gone forever.

"I'm sure you'll soon have a reason--or two--to visit us as much as you can," Paul cryptically said, a knowing grin cutting through the grimness in his expression.

A pair of thin, bangled arms encircled Natsumi's waist from behind. "Do you have to leave so soon, _sempai_?" Sendou Rena trebled as she snuggled her head on the other girl's shoulder. "I think I need more coaching. My coffee's still not as good as yours. Master might fire me!"

Paul sighed amidst the hug of his two teenage assistants. Rena was being overly dramatic as usual.

Natsumi turned and pinched the wild child on the cheek. "Rena-chan, you know perfectly well your coffee is as good as Master's. I mean it should be. It only took you two years." She giggled with the exasperation of a sibling messing around with a precocious kid sister.

"Yeah, and two years of getting our stomachs pumped," Mido Ban added.

Rena pulled down a lower lid with her finger and stuck her tongue out at the sea urchin head.

Ban scrunched up his nose and vaulted gracefully into the bar. "Ugh! All this sentimental sap is making me sick!" he said as he positioned himself behind Natsumi and began untying the strings of her apron.

"Ban-san!" she gasped. A bright pink tint feathered up her cheeks and Ban's deft fingers flimsily grazed her clothes as he made short work of the fabric. In the years Natsumi had known him, the _hentai_ never once attempted any of his infamous gropes on her. The girl held her breath. She hoped he wasn't about to start now that she was leaving.

But her fears were unfounded as the spiky-haired retriever whisked the apron off over her head and carelessly tossed it onto the counter. "Now that you've been released from the command of this cheapskate Nazi, feel free to treat us all you want," Ban simpered. He then swept the waitress into his arms. "You're an ordinary customer now."

Natsumi shrieked and instinctively latched on to her captor's neck. Briefly, their eyes met. She'd always been intimidated and somewhat terrified of looking into those stormy blue oceans that could drown souls. But to her happy discovery, they were now placid and pristine as mountain lakes; twinkling fondly, kindly, and--she could swear--with affection.

Ban and Natsumi traded playful smiles as he gently sat her down on the lacquered bar, whence Emishi Haruki took over by lifting her off and setting her down on the floor. He handed the champagne glass back to Natsumi and raised his own.

"This calls for a toast, don't you think?" the whip master announced.

The guest of honour cringed slightly with embarrassment as all heads turned to face her. Ban volunteered to lead the toast by standing up on the counter and holding up the nearly empty bottle of champagne.

"Natsumi-chan…" he said, in one of the rare instances he used an honorific to address someone.

Everybody braced themselves for whatever was about to spew from the snake man's notoriously foul mouth - whether it be a crude pun or a humiliating roast.

"… may your new life treat you as well as you have treated all of us poor, hapless fools." Ban lost the raspy harshness of his smoke-ravaged voice, sounding almost like a different person. "Because no tab, no amount of money in the world will ever be enough to repay you for how much you've cared. And for that, we can only wish you find the thing that will make you the happiest girl on earth…"

He tilted his violet specs down and winked at the angel who had fed, fretted, and fussed over the destitute GetBackers all those years. However, before shouting out his cheer, Ban glanced stealthily at the tousled nest of golden hair below him. The owner's head was downcast, his fingers limply hanging onto the stem of his flute. Lifting his gaze, Ban couldn't help but smile.

"Cheers!"

A muted, stunned second passed as the crowd was caught by surprise at this uncharacteristic display of sensitivity and poignancy from the Jagan master. Finally, they chorused in agreement.

"Cheers!"

Natsumi swung a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, but she couldn't stop the tears from drizzling past her cheeks as the party - comprised of an eclectic assortment of underground professionals, VOLTS members, the odd Honky Tonk regular customer, and Natsumi's high school friends - drank to her success and began gathering around to shower hugs, kisses, and best wishes.

"Remember, Natsumi-chan, college isn't just about drinking parties and dating the whole baseball team," HEVN joked as she rumpled the younger girl's hair.

"Don't worry, I hardly think she's going to turn into you," Fuuchouin Kazuki snidely remarked with a chuckle.

"Well, if you ever happen to get a single Nobel Prize-winning scientist for a professor, send him my way, would you?" she chirped.

Natsumi laughed. "Sure, if I ever get my nose out of a book long enough to notice."

Otowa Madoka gingerly padded over, while a more grizzled, but just as rambunctious Mozart pawed at the waitress. Madoka reached out and entwined her friend's hand within her slender fingers - one of them sporting a platinum-and-diamond solitaire ring. The two raven-haired women exchanged girlish giggles.

"Promise you'll come back to be a bridesmaid at my wedding, okay?" the blind violinist whispered mirthfully into her ear.

A few feet away, Fuyuki Shido's keen beastly hearing caught the snippet of conversation and flushed. One could swear he just mimicked a flamingo.

Next, Kudo Himiko cut in and offered a quick hug. "Sorry to drop in and run, but I've got a job in an hour. I just stopped by to wish you luck and to give you this -"

The diminutive transporter slipped a tiny glass vial out of her belt and into Natsumi's hand. "Sleep Scent… for self-defense and stuff. One pinch is enough to knock out any college jerk out cold for hours," she explained with a smirk. "Someone as pretty as you might find it useful."

Natsumi stared in awe at the proud, confident eighteen-year-old in front of her. She had always admired the _hakobiya's_ independence, skill, and pluck; especially as she braved her terrible curse. But a year after surviving the trials and changing her fate, fortunately, Himiko seemed much happier, less bitter, and more open to trust. Natsumi's only regret was that she couldn't have known her better. They were different as night and day, poles apart like Ban was to Ginji; but Natsumi hoped someday she and Himiko could eventually be friends. She smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Himiko-san. This is very sweet of you."

"No problem at all. Besides, your leaving is probably a good thing. I'd like to see just how long those two dorks can live without your charity," Himiko said and gave Natsumi a final squeeze. She then turned and headed down the corridor.

"See 'ya around, Ban."

From his sitting perch on the bar, Ban waved lackadaisically. "If it's to save your ass again, I hope not."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes and snorted. Before huffing out the door in a noisy protest of door chimes, Himiko flipped the brunette a dirty finger.

Soon thereafter, when most everybody got their chance to proffer regards, they swarmed over the spread of sushi, sake, and a big vanilla-frosted chocolate cake. Meanwhile, Natsumi remained dumbfoundedly rooted to her spot. She had been genuinely surprised at the outpour of support and sentiments on this, the closing hour on her final shift of her last day at the Honky Tonk. It puzzled the young woman to think she meant this much to these people. After all, she was only a waitress. What possible help had she been to them over the years other than to serve coffee and sandwiches and patch them up with bandages after a particularly rough assignment?

Natsumi's luminous eyes surveyed the boisterous crush of party guests milling between the balloons and confetti. Wistfully, she realised she would probably never again meet such extraordinary characters in her life. They with their great powers, tragic histories, and shared connection with that shell of a monster outside called Mugenjou. She felt lucky enough just to have known them at all, watching them triumph over that giant menace and finally bringing it back into the sphere of real time - and the real world.

They were saviours, heroes… all of them. Especially the two who called themselves GetBackers - even though the rest of Tokyo would never know it. But Natsumi knew, knew their sacrifice. And it was a secret she would treasure forever.

At last, the corner of her sight caught a glimpse of the person she was trying to find amid the crowd. He sat hunched on a bar stool with eyes askew from her direction, and - curiously - nowhere near the food he loved so much.

Natsumi dragged her eyes away and nibbled on her bottom lip. Amano Ginji had yet to amble over and greet her, and neither had he said anything, something, to her for the past couple of days. She wondered what he was thinking, if she had offended him somehow; if he was happy for her; or even if he cared at all. The waitress certainly didn't want to leave the Honky Tonk that night without them exchanging proper goodbyes, much less go not knowing whether she'd made some sort of mistake that bothered him so.

Natsumi felt a hot, sinking weight encumber her, like she was about to be overcome by the flu. Sighing deeply, she decided she needed some air. Picking up her discarded favourite apron off the counter, Natsumi quietly shuffled towards the coat rack where she hung it on the peg for one last time. Lovingly smoothening the apron out of its creases, she then wrapped her rainbow-coloured wool scarf around her neck, opened the door a crack, and snuck out with the bells hardly registering.

At the opposite end of the counter, Ban noticed Natsumi's exit in the periphery of his vision. Jauntily, he dangled his legs next to Ginji's moping form while the blond continued to stare absent-mindedly at the cake, reading and re-reading what was written on it in red icing as Rena began to cut it into slices. _Farewell, Natsumi!_

"You can't have your cake and eat it, too, you know," Ban quipped as he put his foot on Ginji's seat and unsubtly started to nudge his partner's butt off it.

"Huh?" Rudely awoken from his daze, Ginji frowned to see the tip of Ban's shoe firmly planted against his posterior. Then, intuitively, his eyes darted everywhere; growing wider and wider with panic and dismay as he failed to catch a flash of a blue-black ponytail.

Ban jerked his thumb towards the door and crammed a chuckle back down his throat. "Outside," he simply said.

Ginji's perplexed gaze focused on Natsumi's lime-green coat on the rack. _She forgot her coat, _he thought and instantly jumped off the stool.

Kazuki sidled over and daintily laid a hand on his former leader's back. "Ginji-san, would you like some dessert?" he asked and held up a saucer of cake in front of him.

Ginji barely gave it a second glance. "Um, thanks, Kazu-chan. Maybe… maybe later," Ginji replied with indifference.

Kazuki nodded and faintly smiled.

Not knowing what to do with the champagne in his hand, he hurriedly downed it in one gulp and coughed a bit before skipping to the row of hooks next to the exit.

"I'll be back in a while," Ginji said. Taking Natsumi's coat, he gripped the door handle and hesitated for a moment before finally pulling it open.

As the ringing of the door chimes faded, Ban cradled his chin in his palm while Paul crossed his arms and leaned on the refrigerator. "Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Before we came along, you managed to get a along without an assistant just fine," the retriever wondered. "What made you decide to hire Natsumi in the first place?"

Paul lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and merely grinned.

●●●

Still nursing her glass of champagne (she would drink it eventually, she thought, it was Cristal, after all), Natsumi wrapped her arms around herself. She hadn't expected it to be this cold out as a nipping breeze suddenly whipped up from the north and swirled about her. But she knew it would be awkward to go back and get her coat, so Natsumi continued walking the dim, desolate side street she knew so well.

Officially, it was supposed to be spring, but the bite of winter was still clinging stubbornly to those last days of March. Gray days, it seemed, to match the loneliness Natsumi felt as she counted the minutes and hours before the onset of April - and the beginning of her new life in a new city. It was only a two-and-a-half-hour _Shinkansen_ train ride away, but to the sheltered young woman, it might as well be a lifetime away - from the comfortable constancy of her home, family, and friends…

… and those two boys.

Natsumi blinked rapidly and halted beside the GetBackers' white Ladybug. Preciously gliding her hand over the car's smooth finish, she peeked into the window and took a mental snapshot of its adorably dishevelled interior - worn blankets draped over the seats, dirty laundry crumpled on the floor, winter jackets piled in the back. She then passed her fingers in caress against the cold curve of the aluminum roof frame. This was Ban and Ginji's home, their humble sanctuary which she occasionally shared when they brought her along on trips to the beach or hot springs.

Natsumi blushed and giggled as she remembered the time she and Madoka had to bail Shido and the GetBackers out of police custody after they trashed the mountain village near Madoka's cottage. That, and the fact she kind of saw the boys naked in the pool. Her blush deepened.

Those were carefree times, she reminisced; times they all probably thought would never change. Using her hand to cool the heat of embarrassment off her cheek, the girl inhaled the crisp city air. She wondered if she was breathing in the exact same mist that floated above Kyoto tonight. Kyoto -- where she was to spend the next four years of her life.

Almost blindly, Natsumi walked on further ahead until she reached the overhead pedestrian walkway. As she navigated up the steps, she debated whether she regretted not getting into Tokyo University. After all, she never really expected to pass its highly stringent, next-to-impossible entrance exam. The waitress knew she wasn't as naturally brilliant as someone like Ban, for instance. She had to study very, very hard to get into a good school. In fact, Natsumi considered herself fortunate she was able to make it at all into Kyoto University.

She stared into the thinning traffic on the road below and then up to the now diminishing shadow of Mugenjou, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. On the surface, Kyoto University had been her first choice; believing as did many others, that it had the finest Sciences Department of all the universities in Japan, having graduated the most Nobel Laureates and prize-winning scientists and doctors in the country.

But somewhere deep in her heart, a small part of Natsumi preferred _Todai_ -- less for the automatic prestige and privilege it would lend her name, but more importantly, for the prospect of not having to leave Tokyo. And remaining in Tokyo, near Shinjuku, meant there could be a chance he… they… maybe…

The student shook her head vehemently as though dusting off her mind of a lost cause. _It's too late now,_ Natsumi told herself, taking a timid sip of her drink hoping it would help her swallow the crushing lump that was now growing in her diaphragm. As her large, pewter-gray eyes glazed over, she felt tiny, icy pricks sparingly dot her skin. She held out a palm. A light snow began to fall.

Natsumi suddenly realised how much darker her life was going to be without seeing the sun rising in his eyes ever again.

●●●

Ginji closed the Honky Tonk's door behind him, hesitated on the café's welcome mat and ruffled his hair. The warm fog created by his uneven breaths obscured his vision as he scoured both sides of the empty street trying to spot Natsumi's slender silhouette. Not finding her, Ginji stepped onto the pavement and folded the green pea coat over his arm.

The blond practically strained his untested brain cells as he contemplated how best to say his goodbyes to the waitress. He played a variety of sequence scenarios in his mind. Ginji would give Natsumi her coat, tell her goodbye, and say thanks for everything she'd done for him… the GetBackers. Or he could say goodbye, hand her coat over, and then give his thanks.

_Or, _he could be daring and put the coat on Natsumi, tell her his 'thank you's', say farewell, _and_ - if he was up to it - give her a quick kiss on the cheek as well.

"Hn…" Ginji wrinkled his nose and expressed a soft groan. Well, he didn't have to make his choice now, did he? Ginji bit his lip and nodded to himself. That decided, the retrieval agent spun on his heels to the right. Instinct told him that Natsumi was probably strolling towards the flashing lights of _kabuki-cho_**(1)**.

Ginji thrust his free hand into his cargo pants pocket as he walked, his sneakers scuffing the asphalt with every heavy footstep. Actually, he thought, saying farewell would merely be a formality. It was as though Natsumi had already drawn out her long goodbyes all throughout the year, making herself more scarce as the months went by. It seemed like it was only yesterday when they would spend downtime at the Honky Tonk sitting across each other in a booth and challenging her to a game of _shogi_, or childishly playing footsie with her under the table as Natsumi complained and giggled while trying to finish her homework.

Then the high school student graduated from Seisho Girls Academy and, just like that, Natsumi's bright, cheerful presence became sporadic on the premise that she needed time off for even more study. Ginji didn't understand at first why she needed to be at another school so soon after graduating, but the girl smiled sadly and simply said,

"_My future can't wait."_

So, spring segued into summer, and summer into fall, where in that time Natsumi disappeared and buried herself in the daily grind of twelve-hour review sessions at the _yobiko_ **(2)** she attended. In the few days she did clock-in at the café, Natsumi broke away from her books only long enough to serve the coffee; and even then, Ginji and the waitress stopped playing their silly games. They hardly even exchanged words beyond pleasantries.

In fact, if there was someone Natsumi _did_ spend more time with, it was, oddly enough, Ban - who relished the opportunity to brush up on his science and maths by sitting with her, reading her textbooks, and giving her pop quizzes afterwards; all while Ginji sat clueless at the bar, feeling like a basket case and wishing for once, he was as effortlessly smart as his partner. For the blond knew he no longer had a place on that bench, opposite that girl with her mountains of formulas, computations, and scientific tracts he would never understand.

And it was this unspoken drift, the subtle absences that signalled things had changed. Which - it seemed - both would silently accept.

By winter, Natsumi had taken all her exams and returned to the Honky Tonk, making up for lost wages by working full-time. Yet, as she awaited the results of her difficult tests, the waitress remained anxious and distracted; while Ginji couldn't begin to explain the dull, pulsating ache he felt seeing her go through all those trials - trials which she strangely chose to suffer alone.

Then, upon learning she had been accepted into Kyoto University, Natsumi relaxed considerably and began to bounce back into her normal self. She and Ginji even resumed their chess matches, which he curiously kept winning – unlike before.

He once wondered out loud why the sudden shift in his fortunes. To which Natsumi simply answered with a small smile and a pay-up in breakfasts of ham and scrambled eggs.

Ginji could almost convince himself that somehow, things had still remained the same. But he was only kidding himself. He knew Natsumi was slightly different, just as everybody - and everything else - was different.

Shido was now engaged to Madoka and had mellowed down, having lost a lot of his animosity and anger - even towards Ban.

Kazuki returned to the haunted ruins of his ancestral home with Juubei and embarked on a personal pilgrimage that lasted months as he tried to find the root of what went terribly wrong in the once honourable, centuries-old Fuuchouin School. Only then could Kazuki begin to rebuild a new discipline from the ashes of his crumbled legacy.

Paul… Ginji still found it hard to get used to the fact that the droll, mild-mannered, tab-hounding café owner was once one of Mugenjou's most powerful figures.

Himiko had survived the Voodoo Child curse and her seventeenth birthday long enough to reach her eighteenth. Now old enough to legally drive, she was as independent and feisty as ever; taking on even more dangerous, glamorous jobs in and out of the country that caused Ban to go into mild cardiac arrests every time she failed to come home in time. What would Yamato think, the porcupine-head had ranted, if his little sister had outlived the curse only to get hurt - or worse - while smuggling some nuclear scientist out of North Korea?

And then there were the GetBackers. For maybe it was he and Ban who had changed the most; having finally come to terms with their long lost families, their powers, and their pasts. They had solved the puzzle of who and what the third generation of GetBackers were; and now, Ban and Ginji could start completing a new puzzle that would foretell what they could become.

Ginji idly ran his fingers through the downy faux fur trim of Natsumi's coat and slackened his pace. He wondered if the student would be a piece that could still fit into the grid of this new puzzle, or if it was permanently fixed into the vast, finished mural of the old one; hung up only as a vague tapestry in his memory.

Sighing, the blond retriever stopped, grasped the chain-link fence that ran along the street and pressed his cheek against the thin, cold steel. Feeling a snowflake catch on his lashes, Ginji blinked and drew his large brown eyes up, instantly spotting the familiar pendulum sway of Natsumi's ponytail in the multi-coloured halo of _kabuki-cho's_ neon lights. Watching her stand alone on that walkway with her back to him, Ginji acceded to the reality that this young lady wasn't the same carefree, _genki_ friend he was--how should he put it?--so very fond of. Instead, she was now graced with a certain astute seriousness and had a slight tired look in her silvery eyes that tarnished the star-shine in them somewhat.

Not that it made her any less attractive in his view. No. Natsumi had blossomed. She had lost the baby fat on her face, which revealed a delicate bone structure and refined cheekbones. Plus, her curves had ripened and she cut her long, straight hair into trendy layers; sometimes wearing it loose just like she did when he first met her. Ginji always thought the high school girl was cute. But now, to his gaping awe, he found this Natsumi as mature… beautiful… a woman.

Why would a sophisticated college student like her want to continue being friends with an uneducated simpleton like himself, Ginji mused regretfully. He began to doubt the wisdom of coming out here, speculating whether if it was not, in fact, better for the both of them to just silently drift apart and leave with a remembrance of a friendship that meant something; rather than exchanging trivial small talk full of empty promises that eventually meant nothing.

Ginji desperately searched for some sort of sign to tell him what to do, for somehow, his normally keen instincts wasn't helping him any. At last, he sought what he was looking for in the stoplight below the overpass. If Natsumi turned her head toward him by the time the light turned green, he would go to her. If not…

He would walk away.

Then, the retriever saw the lights switch from red to green, and automatically, his eyes practically bored into the back of her head. He stared… he hoped… he willed her for any kind of response. And when her sights remained fixed ahead, Ginji's gaze dropped sadly; observing his feet swivel as his mind commanded them to march back to the Honky Tonk, yet with his heart pleading desperately for them to stay.

But just before his attention had swung too far behind to notice, from the corner of his vision Ginji thought he caught the shift of a ponytail in the bright haze. Peeking over his shoulder, he discovered not the snub of Natsumi's hair, but her lovely face as she waved to him.

Ginji smiled weakly and waved in return from beyond the criss-cross of the fence. "Small talk and casual goodbyes it is," he muttered to himself. He trudged forward and grasped the coat tighter in the crook of his arm. As he approached the stairs, Ginji couldn't help but notice Natsumi seemed distant. Even as she was physically near to him, it was as if her spirit had already left.

●●●

_To be continued..._

●●●

* * *

**_kabuki-cho – _**red-light district in Shinjuku with its bright, gaudy lights, hostess bars, and underworld charm. 

**_yobiko -_** also called a _cram school_. _Yobiko_ are private schools that help students prepare for college entrance exams. Cost of these year-long preparation classes is very expensive, sometimes equal to what a student pays for first-year university expenses, or higher. These schools also give practice exams throughout the year.


	2. Anatomy of a Goodbye

"_**Missing"**_

**Disclaimer : **Not mine.

* * *

**_II._**

Natsumi met Ginji at the landing as he climbed the steps. "Hi, Gin-chan! What's up?" The girl shivered slightly – and not exactly from the chill either.

"Hey. I… I… saw you step out and thought I'd bring your coat over. You must be cold," Ginji stammered, cowering in front of Natsumi as the snow flitted gently about them.

Not as cold as the look of disappointment in her eyes, though. Natsumi's lucent smile, while still holding, faltered a millimeter or two. "Oh. Thanks. How very kind of you."

His thoughts muddled, Ginji neglected to give the waitress her coat, and for a brief uncomfortable moment the couple suffered the silence and awkwardly square-danced around each other in attempts to make some kind of move. Ginji considered taking Natsumi by the shoulders and draping the coat over her, while Natsumi wondered if she should turn her back on him and hope he'd get the hint. But neither of them counted on the vicissitudes of their courage.

"Could you hold this for me, please?" She handed the champagne glass to him with one hand while she took her coat with the other.

The confused young man stared into the pale liquid while Natsumi put on the jacket. He cursed to himself. This was definitely not going as he had planned. It was supposed to be coat, farewell, and then 'thank you'. Or was it farewell, coat…?

_Damn it!_ Not sure what he was doing, Ginji almost crushed the glass in his hand.

"Thank you," Natsumi said as she wrested the flute out of his grip and adjusted her hair over the scruff of her coat.

Ginji began to trace his steps back. "Um, I didn't get a chance back at the café and I just wanted to say goodbye before you…"

She wrinkled her forehead and frowned. "Wait. Don't go yet. You don't have to rush. Can't… can't you keep me company for just a little while longer? Please?" Grabbing lightly at Ginji's wrist, Natsumi's voice cracked, her dark irises imploring. "Not unless you have to be somewhere else."

He gasped at how insensitive he just sounded. "No. I didn't mean… I mean… Yes." He breathed in deeply. "Yes, of course. I'll stay as long as you like."

Natsumi merely nodded her gratitude and let go of his hand. For a second, he swam in her reflective gaze. He didn't know if it was just the gaudy flashing lights glittering like a spectrum in her eyes, but Ginji could swear they were glassed-over.

"Natsumi-chan, why are you out here in the snow anyway?"

"Ah, I just wanted to get some air, that's all." She surveyed the cloud-shrouded moon peering over the shadow of Mugenjou. " --And trying to memorize Shinjuku's sky."

The former Thunder Emperor cocked his head to the side. "But isn't the sky the same wherever you go?"

"True." Natsumi smiled. "But Shinjuku's is different."

"You mean Mugenjou?"

"Mm."

"But why would you want to remember such a hellish, lawless place like that?"

She held out an arm to delineate the structure's stark outline in the horizon with her fingers. "Without it, I never would have met all of you," Natsumi explained solemnly. "It might seem strange, but for those of us on the outside, it means a lot."

Ginji shrugged. Although he would never view Mugenjou as abstractly as Natsumi did, for it was literally a part of him and him of it; he understood her point completely.

"Besides, it _was_ your home, wasn't it?" she added. "I'd always look out the Honky Tonk window and worry every time lightning struck the tower, wondering if something awful had happened to –" Her words faded as she bit her tongue.

"Yeah, it was. But my home now is right here with…" Ginji cut himself off as well. He wasn't quite sure where—what—that was exactly, didn't know if it was a physical reality or a state of heart and mind; if it was a matter of having a roof over his head or being with someone he… cared about.

He changed the subject. "So, when are you leaving for Kyoto?"

Natsumi bowed her head. "Day after tomorrow."

"So soon?" His brows shot up.

"I have to settle into my cousin's apartment before I enroll for classes and buy books and stuff," she answered flatly.

"I see." Ginji shoved both hands into his pockets and huddled next to her against the barrier of the walkway as sparse traffic coasted below. "Say, what's Kyoto like? It seems so far away."

Natsumi was floored. "You haven't been there? Seriously?"

He shook his head. "Only once, for a job. At night. Ban-chan and I were in-and-out by dawn. He said we could visit some other time, but we never got around to it."

"Oh, that's too bad," she sympathized. "Kyoto's very pretty and quiet, with lots of shrines, parks, and ancient heritage sites. It was my mother's hometown. If you want, I can show you around…" For a second, her expression brightened, and then hastily dimmed. "Sometime, maybe… someday."

"Maybe," Ginji repeated softly, suddenly developing a fascination with his shoes.

With effort, Natsumi impelled her tone into perking up. "Kyoto's not that far if you take the _Shinkansen._ The express train from Tokyo is about a three-hour ride. It's a bit expensive, though. A one-way ticket costs about 12,500 yen."

"Twelve…? So a return trip is… Twelve plus twelve…" The blond paused and counted off the fingers of both hands. "… twenty-four plus five hundred plus…"

"Twenty-five thousand yen," she summed up for him, giving a tiny, endeared smile. Inwardly, Natsumi realized she would miss Ginji's blundering adventures in calculating.

He whistled. "That's a lot of money for a short trip, isn't it? As expensive as a deluxe sushi tray." If Ginji knew one commodity more than anything else, it was food – another one of his quirks she would no longer be privy to.

"That's why I won't be able to go home as often as I'd like." Natsumi glumly hunched her shoulders and idly swirled the champagne in her glass. For some reason, she found it necessary to mention, "However, there's a nine-hour overnight train that goes to-and-from Kyoto for only 3,500 yen each way. It's slow and bumpy, but it'll get there."

The girl scolded herself. Why was she babbling all this nonsense? It wasn't as if she was expecting anyone to go out of their way to visit her there anyway. After all, it was she who had chosen to leave her familiar world behind, to leave Tokyo, to leave… _him_.

Natsumi felt her heart sink further into the pit of her stomach.

"So, have you decided what you're going to major in, Natsumi-chan?" Ginji asked as he propped his elbows on the steel rail.

"I was thinking Biochemistry," she wistfully replied. "And then maybe med school afterwards. But most probably I'd want to get into forensics."

"Er… huh? What's that?"

"It's when you use science to solve crimes, usually together with the police department."

The blond retriever arched his brow high. "Oh, so you want to be a police officer? Like that cute traffic cop who keeps towing our car away?"

Natsumi glanced up at those wide, innocent eyes and searched for signs of jest, only to see the dark depths of his sincerity. She giggled and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Not exactly. More like a lab technician. You know, the ones who wear white coats and are always behind a microscope?"

"I get it. You want to be a detective scientist," Ginji gushed, grateful to have finally heard his friend sound a tad happier. The melody of her laugh was always music to his ears. Soft, breathy, seductive, and carefree; Natsumi laughed as though she was being tickled gently in secret, sensitive places only she knew – yet daring those who heard it to find out where they were. He wondered if others could hear the same music in her laugh and miss it like he would.

"Something like that." She smiled.

He smiled back. "Why do you want to be in 'porn sick'?"

"Not 'porn sick', Gin-chan. _Fo-ren-sics_." Natsumi's giggle floated up again, but then choked it down when she began to feel it slowly deteriorating into a sob. _Why? _Why did he persist in putting her under his charmed spell; this kind, beautiful man-child, demon-angel who was making her fall so hard just as she was about to spread her wings and fly? Now it didn't seem all that implausible for her to simply forget Kyoto, forget school, abandon the virtually guaranteed future she deservedly earned if only to be enveloped in his warmth; to have her head on his steady shoulder and be mesmerized by the lights forever.

But how could the dream last when real life was strong enough an antidote to this drug that fed her hallucination? Natsumi's smile went frail. "I guess it's all your fault—you and Ban-san."

"Us? How so?"

"Master once told me that whenever something is taken away, be sure to get it back. But there's so much evil about that most people are helpless to even begin looking for what was lost, much less take it back. That's why you and Ban-san are such god-sends. I've seen and experienced first-hand the immense joy you bring to people who thought they forever lost what was precious to them. And to see them get back their happiness must be the most wonderful feeling ever, right?"

Ginji nodded wholeheartedly.

But Natsumi exhaled a plaintive sigh. "However, in the real world, few will be as fortunate as I to encounter retrieval agents such as yourself; and most people who have lost their lives, loved ones, or memories will never get them back." She gazed up at him with a steely, obstinate line between her eyes.

"I might not have any of your strength, skill, or courage; but I hope one day, with the little knowledge I've learned, I can help those who've already lost by at least giving them back truth, justice, and maybe some closure."

The former Honky Tonk waitress turned askance and cast her eyes down sheepishly. "I know it's foolish of me to think I can become even a fraction of what the GetBackers are, but it's what I want to _try_ to do, no matter how small the returns are."

Natsumi humbly bowed her head low so that half her delicate features were buried under the wool of her muffler. She then felt a sinewy arm fold across her shoulders and a sturdy hand cover her own.

"That's such an unselfish, noble aspiration,' Ginji cooed softly. "I really hope you become the best _for_…" He enunciated the word carefully, wanted to get it right. "…_for-en-sics_ specialist in the whole world."

The girl shuddered in his near-embrace. A piece of her mind was petulantly screaming at Ginji's audacity, _'stop holding me when you've already let me go!'. _Yet, the rest of her was silent; and in that moment, Natsumi knew all would be forgiven as she imagined--almost heard him—grazing his lips down the strands of her locks and stealing a kiss from her quivering, receptive mouth. How she waited, with body and soul throbbing, for the world to stop and make way for the miracle to come.

But Natsumi flickered her lids open and saw that the lights were still blinding, the city around her still loud and meddlesome, and Ginji was still holding onto her without the warm pressure of possession. No whisper that begged her…

_Stay_.

And even then, she still found it in her heart to forgive him, forgive him for doing nothing wrong.

The blaring of a car horn broke the balmy quiet and jolted the pair out of their private reveries. Simultaneously, they turned to each other.

"Do you remember when…?" Ginji and Natsumi dueted. She paused with a squeaky embarrassed giggle while he abruptly released his easy cling on her.

"You first," the blond spurred gently.

Natsumi leaned back into the guardrail and stubbed the tip of her sneaker on the concrete floor. "Didn't we—you, Ban-san, HEVN-san, Master, and I—used to have fast food picnics on this very spot?" She cracked a small, fanciful smile. "Why did we ever stop doing that?"

"No more lunch money, I guess," Ginji said with a lax shrug. He tossed a curious view at his castle and became thoughtful. "And maybe because the VOLTS had started coming back into my life and made things a bit more – busy."

"Well, it couldn't have been busier than that time you guys destroyed the Honky Tonk and almost got your organs harvested," Natsumi joked.

"You forget that bastard doctor had a knife to your throat, that's why," he reminded.

"Oh, but only because you busted the ceramic cat and threw out the floppy that was inside."

Ginji shifted his stare towards her with a naughty twinkle in his velvet eyes. "That beckoning cat we fixed?"

"Yeah. The one that resembled_ Doraemon_." Her eyes guiltily rolled upwards. "Looking back, we did an awful job of it, didn't we?"

"_You_ did an awful job. I just assisted."

Natsumi crossed her arms peevishly.

"It … it was a piece of work to say the least," Ginji snorted, trying to control his peals of laughter. "HEVN-san almost dropped her panties when she saw it."

"You're so mean. It wasn't _that_ bad," she dissented timidly, smiling despite herself. "Did Ban-san ever find out that we stuck the Ladybug's spare tire to the cat's leg?"

"No," the spiky-haired man's best friend whispered underhandedly between more snickers.

They laughed and reveled in their shared secret for a few moments. Ginji then concluded, "That was fun what we did, huh? Even though we got hacked pretty badly by Hishiki afterwards." He innocently took the waitress's slim, dexterous hand in his again, fingers diligently studying each of her digits, memorizing their strength and kindness.

"You know, every time we're beaten or bruised during a mission and then get treated at a hospital, when the nurses do it, it usually hurts. I mean, they're cute and all, but it still hurts. With you, though, when you patch us up, for some reason it doesn't hurt as much. You've got good, caring—healing—hands, Natsumi-chan. I'm—me and Ban-chan, I mean—are gonna miss that about you."

Ginji removed his hand as casually as he had placed it there. Meanwhile, Natsumi's sights were locked on the indelible, electric trail he left on her fingers, almost feeling shame at the touch of his fine, marble-smooth skin on her slightly calloused table tennis-playing dishwasher's hands. How could Ginji honestly believe she could bestow such gifts on him when it was he who was regenerative, almost immortal – near perfect? Surely, Ginji was mistaken. However she'd eased his pain must've merely been a cheerful diversion.

_A cheerful diversion. _Could that be all she was to him? Instantly, Natsumi was overcome with disgrace at her foible of wanting—needing—more from him at such an inopportune, inescapable time. She felt a heavy fluttering in her chest like that of captive birds eager to flee from their cages; but she also perceived a twinge of animosity spill over her, an intensifying resentment that stemmed from the irony that this boy who would willingly let her go had such a hold over her. It was as though Ginji's presence alone was enough to keep Natsumi from flight.

She couldn't help but feel a slight annoyance. It seemed inconceivable, but to her horror, it was there. _No, I can't let him see me like this_, she resolved.

Natsumi's lips tightened under a rapid frown as she drew away and started to slink off to the opposite end of the walkway. She dared not look back lest Ginji get burned by the frigid fire in her misery-filled eyes and see not a friend but a loathing enemy.

Nevertheless, Ginji tagged after the forlorn girl, reluctant to let her burst out of their fragile bubble. For reasons unbeknownst to him, the retriever began to ramble, inundate Natsumi with a torrent of words and remembrances he hoped would somehow anchor her to that spot.

"You know what else I'm going to miss? Your coffee," he mused, trudging in cadence to her feeble steps. "Did you know the Honky Tonk brew comes from a recipe that originally belonged to Ban-chan's grandmother?"

The waitress wavered but kept walking. "Really? I wasn't aware of that."

Ginji noted with peculiar interest how Natsumi's hand kept fussing inside her coat pocket. "Paul-san says it's because the recipe is formulated by a witch, the coffee must actually be some kind of magic potion and that everyone who makes it puts his or her own little 'spell' into the brew." He touched a finger to his lips pensively. "Paul-san's coffee is strong and a tad too bitter for me, but it has a peaceful, calming effect. Like it can make you forget."

"But somehow, yours is different. It's sweeter and… cheerful, as if its spell was to make anyone who drank it smile." Ginji then confessed in a tender, hushed tone. "Don't tell Master, but I think I like your coffee more than his."

Natsumi stopped in her tracks, the grim line of her mouth curving up gently. She wanted to laugh. Would she dare tell him her infusion carried no magical charm other than that of a pinch of cocoa which she snuck into his cup to give it a sugary kick? That, and a sprinkling of her – warmhearted affection?

Natsumi, wondered, however, if there wasn't indeed a grain of truth to Paul's lore since she had suddenly taken a fancy to her employer's brew when she'd always been more of a tea drinker. Maybe she, as well, needed to placate the stirrings of her heart, trying to forget something… _someone_.

When Natsumi hesitated, so, too, did Ginji; his own pulse skipping a beat at her reticence. But he knew she had heard every ingenuous word, for it was she, of all people, who he could count on to listen to his drivel. And now, more than ever, did Ginji need her to listen, to hear out his goodbyes of which he so unequivocally wanted to stall the end.

And so he talked, talked to the cute curl on the tip of Natsumi's ponytail that dangled in the snow-flecked wind. He rummaged and scavenged his mind for every memory he had of her – treasures which Ginji surprisingly found shallow to unearth. For there was no reminiscence of her that wasn't happy, clear and full of colour. Memories like a field of flowers above a graveyard of blanched skeletons. He was stunned at how everything about this girl was so easy to remember when he himself was so prone to forget.

"… and we're also going to miss your sandwiches and cakes and how you always add extra slices of pepperoni to our pizza when Master isn't looking…" Ginji went breathless in his enumeration lest he omit crucial details, his litany as rhythmic as the bounce of Natsumi's hair against her back.

"… plus, we'll miss your cheers of good luck before every mission and how you still believe our success rate is at one-hundred percent when it hasn't been since, well, the beginning. Ban-chan loves that about you..."

Natsumi began swiveling her head passively to the side. A small part of her continued to stubbornly justify the cold shoulder she squared at him, but she felt the threads of her will unraveling in the subliminal spaces between Ginji's words.

_Look at me_, they said.

And still, he persisted. Her sparkly red hair scrunchie… sharing her manga collection with him… how she always bit the heads off animal cookies first… her singing love songs in the back room when she thought no one was listening… or the way she would peel him off the Honky Tonk wall and giggle sympathetically after one of Ban's monstrous tantrums. Natsumi could fathom neither rhyme nor reason in Ginji's celebration of her sheer ordinariness, of how in awe he could be of such trifling things that hardly distinguished her from other girls. Girls like her who were a dime-a-dozen and would someday pass Ginji's way – one of them who would probably stay…

Not like her.

And maybe that was why he could so easily say goodbye.

The college-bound young woman felt her knees turn to jelly as she shut her eyes tight to the implication. "Ginji-san." Opening her eyes, Natsumi murmured haltingly and tried to avert her attention by letting the strobe of neon lights lull her into a trance, only to have his broad frame screen her as he wedged himself to her side.

She concealed the hurt under a wounded smile. "It's all right. A simple farewell will do."

Ginji interrupted himself and leaned back into the banister, creating a gap between them in respect for her space. Tilting his head, he answered faintly. "A simple farewell. I… I thought that's what I came here for, but -" He took a deep, labored breath and looked at her guardedly from beneath a creased brow. " – it's been nearly four years since we first met and in that time between then and tonight it's as if all we ever did was say 'hello'. But now that it's time to say 'goodbye' I realize that I… I don't know _how_."

Natsumi tipped her head up in amazement as Ginji stumbled over his careful words. A queasy, frustrated scowl crumpled into his boyish features, unsure whether he was making any sense at all.

"You see, I've never really had the chance to say farewell to anyone before. It's either I just upped and left, or people would just… leave me."

He swallowed hard. "But you leaving without us exchanging words or waving goodbye or whatever – I can't allow that. Not anymore." Flashbacks began rolling in Ginji's mind of friends who left too soon and never heard his final words; how he cried out their names pleading for them to stay alive; how they never saw the storm of tears he shed; never felt how he desperately held on to their ruined bodies as their sad souls slipped away…

Never knew that his every unspoken goodbye slowly broke the chains that restrained the demon within him.

Fate never allowed Amano Ginji the benefit of a proper farewell. And now, those friends were ghosts, all of them; phantoms that haunted his memory. Kanako, who only wanted a puppy; Chien, who was only trying to run from Belt Line monsters; Shuu, who just wanted the VOLTS to come back… Soon, Natsumi, too, would join them. Only, her ghost would be alive and happy, fulfilling dreams the dead could not.

But a ghost nonetheless.

Ginji picked up on Natsumi's confused reaction and quickly tried to rebound. "But don't worry." He waved off with both hands. "This isn't a sad goodbye, this is a good goodbye. In fact, I'm very happy for you, Natsumi-chan. Because unlike my friends in Mugenjou, you're gonna make all your dreams come true and no one will stop you."

The retriever made a move to reach out, but flinched when a lone, harried pedestrian walked past. Instead, Ginji offered Natsumi a formal bow of traditional reverence. "You are a far better, more fortunate person than all of us." He practically confessed to the pavement. "And you're going to have a far better life in Kyoto without all of _this_ – away from danger, away from the craziness, away from the GetBackers– "

A sudden, strangling clench wrapped around Ginji's heart. It felt as if his sense of joy and sorrow had collided and his heart had cushioned the crash. His life knew of immense misery and of great happiness, but never both at the same time. Not like this. It was a peculiar, alien feeling he had no name for and he wondered why Natsumi's departure could arouse such a response.

With the passerby gone and his emotional curiosity piqued, Ginji straightened up and perused Natsumi's silver-gray irises for a glimmer of truth. For he always thought them as living mirrors reflecting back everything that was pure, beautiful, and right with the world. Hers were also the most mirthful eyes he'd ever seen. And yet, as their gazes locked, Ginji could only see gloom like twilight overcast with nimbus clouds of ash-blue.

Now, his farewell had nowhere else to go but to wind down, leaving him just moments to persuade Natsumi into granting him a souvenir of the thing he would miss the most – her vivacious smile.

He waited, and waited. However, he knew it had already been missing for most of the past year, and Ginji was beginning to doubt he would ever catch a glimpse of it again. Everybody had noticed the waitress's radiant smile had gone, ostensibly attributing the loss to the stress of her exams. But the tests came and went, and Natsumi neither attempted—nor did the GetBackers offer—to get it back.

Maybe her happiness was something only she could retrieve, he thought sadly. Ginji hoped she would eventually find it in Kyoto or wherever else she'd go.

The night breeze picked up and frantically whisked errant strands of Natsumi's hair across her troubled face, painting her like a tragic figure out of a gothic romance novel. Not taking the sight of her like that any longer, Ginji closed in and swept the locks away with a purposeful hand. As he tucked them behind her ear, he accidentally grazed her cheek, and instantly, his perpetual warmth was beckoned by its chill.

"Before you go, Natsumi-chan, I think there's one thing we all want to know." Unconsciously, Ginji brushed an imaginary snowflake from her cheek with his forefinger, using the gesture as a veiled excuse to touch her one last time. He pleasantly discovered how physically soft she felt to his touch to match the tenderness he already knew of her heart.

"Even though you got into the school you wanted and have a bright future ahead, why do you continue to be so… sad?" He caressed Natsumi's flawlessness in upward strokes as if to draw the corner of her frown into the smile he so desperately needed to see.

"Is there any way I can bring back the old, cheerful you? Even for just a little while?"

Natsumi blinked rapidly, taking a ragged breath as Ginji's request blindsided her. Trembling, her head bobbled indecisively in a half-nod, half-shake, finally taming it by leaning her cheek into his gentle hand and letting the tears break.

"Oh no! Don't cry, Natsumi-chan. Why -?" Ginji exclaimed as he felt a steady stream seep between his fingers. He tried to recede, only to have Natsumi cover his hand with hers and lightly keep it in place.

Severely chastened, Natsumi looked into the champagne glass, her flowing tears spoiling the expensive beverage inside. _How could I have thought so wrongly of him?_ How foolishly mistaken she was thinking Ginji didn't care when it was he who cared the most, wanting only what he thought she wanted; painstakingly gathering abandoned hopes and dreams of friends he left behind in the past and bestowing them on her - a friend who had a future.

She, who he trusted would make each and every one of those hopes and dreams come true.

"Bright future?" Natsumi woefully wondered out loud. "How bright can it be without any of you in it? How can I spend four years worrying if Master is managing okay, or if the tabletops are clean enough? Who's going to make sure you and Ban-san are fed before a big job? Who - ?" Evading what she really wanted to say only mounted the waitress's frustration further. Natsumi glanced up, blinked out more tears and clamped her lips tight.

She said, finally, " - who's going to take care of the GetBackers when I'm gone? Who's going to wait for… you?"

Appalled that he possibly made her feel worse, Ginji inched nearer and smothered his crying friend with the most assured gaze he could muster. "Ban-chan and I will be fine, don't worry. We'll eat – somehow. I mean there's Paul-san and …" He pondered very hard.

"Uh, Rena-chan?"

Natsumi's tense pout softened into a surprised 'o' as she choked back a heave that was partly a sob, partly a laugh. Her heart skipped and beat a startling truth.

She had never adored Ginji as much as she did at that moment.

"Gin-chan, you think I'm this wretched mess all because of… of… _food_?" the young woman bitterly chortled, the jitters in her chest intensifying into a wanton pound. She then gently pried his fingers off her face with one hand and dealt with the pesky champagne glass with the other by bringing it to her lips, tossing her head back, and drinking the contents straight up.

"H-huh?" Ginji withdrew a step, suddenly baffled at her odd behaviour.

Natsumi dropped her hand and let the flute fall to the pavement with a tinny crash. Her dark eyes targeted his with a never-before-seen ravenous fire that even tears couldn't quench. "Ban-san is right," she declared while jumping on pointe and throwing arms about Ginji's neck, her weight pinning him against the rail.

"You are _so_ dumb sometimes."

And then she kissed him.

●●●

A crowd had gathered near the Honky Tonk entrance, quiet and anxiously anticipating the next report from the long-haired play-by-play announcer seated on the corner barstool.

"Gin-chan! You moron!" HEVN shrieked after hearing Natsumi had started to cry. She took out her indignation on poor Emishi whose throat was quickly being put through the ringer; but because his assailant's giant headlights were now playing bumper cars with his back, he didn't mind _too_ much.

Kazuki furrowed his brow in concentration as he adjusted the string attached to his hair bell. The _annaiya_ was virtually cordoned off by a gaggle of Natsumi's high school pals who were swooning over the strange, androgynously handsome young man who was eavesdropping on their friend with a length of thread. Together with Madoka and Rena, they all clasped hands in breathless suspense.

The men, on the other hand, tried to keep an aloof indifference about the whole unfolding drama, but proved no better than the girls as their ears instantly perked when Kazuki eventually spoke.

"Shhhh… I hear glass breaking," he relayed. Puzzled murmurs. "_'Ban-san is right'_, she's saying…"

Pause. Kazuki cupped a hand over the gold bell. "_'You are so dumb sometimes'_," he continued. Another pause – longer.

"And?" HEVN demanded, leaning over a battered but happily content Emishi.

Madoka laid a hand on her chest. "What are they doing now?"

Silence.

Finally, Rena impatiently blurted out the question everyone else was too shy—or too dense—to ask. "So, are they kissing or what?"

Kazuki removed his hand off the bell and looked up at the curious crew. Sighing deeply, a smile slowly curled up his face.

The girls erupted into a concert of delighted squeals.

●●●

Over at the far side of the bar, two seemingly oblivious men didn't need to hear anything to know exactly what was going on.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful," Paul deadpanned with an exasperated snort. "Natsumi's resignation has been effective for what, just an hour, and already you guys have her running up a tab as well." He poured himself a shot of vodka. "I hate you."

"You know the drill, old coot," Ban smirked as he reached down and tapped a dog-eared notebook filled near to capacity. The spiky-haired _dakkanya_ sat Indian-style on the counter as if he owned the place. "And it's not like you're the only victim here. Can you believe that girl owes me a spare tire?"

Paul nudged the vodka bottle over to the younger man. "And my coffee's too bitter, eh? Hmph! Well, tell your partner the next time he gets a free cup of my brew, by then he'd have forgotten what bitter tastes like."

"Oooh… Jealous much, are you Paul? Afraid the doofus will steal away your _widdle girl_?"

"Shut up," he snarled.

Ban raised the bottle. "Hey. It's not like the twerp will _need_ your coffee much longer anyway."

"Mm. I suppose so," the long-suffering barkeep concurred. His eyes softened behind the black lenses, their stigmata fading with the glory of a buried past. "And you?"

"Heh," came the usual vague response. "You overestimate that damn potion's power. It's only coffee, man. Just coffee."

Paul simply smiled and shook his curly head. A clink of glass; followed by a long drink to the end of lost days – and to the start of new ones. Ban winced briefly at the burning sting shooting down his throat as the two generations of GetBackers simultaneously slammed their toasts on the bar. The mentor wordlessly looked at his protégé for a final sign that everything was going to be all right. To which he answered by dragging on his cigarette and gesturing a confident nod; for Ban trusted his best friend to act on behalf of the GetBackers and show the waitress 'proper' appreciation for her kindness and devotion that was way overdue.

Amano Ginji, who himself was all the thanks Natsumi deserved.

The brunette chuckled. After all, Ban concluded, Ginji—and he—didn't think they could last _too_ long without the girl's great cooking.

●●●

Ginji gave out a shocked, yet half-hearted whimper of protest as Natsumi continued to hang on to him while precariously perched on tiptoe, her lips pressed delicately against his. He wasn't sure who he was trying to steady—Natsumi or himself—by bracing one hand around the guardrail while the other rested flirtatiously on the full curve of her hip.

Natsumi concentrated on keeping her balance, as still as a novice on a tightrope, not wanting to move lest she inadvertently lose that volatile contact - the one she had silently wished for all those years. She hoped, no, _willed_ the kiss to last as long as it could, no matter if it meant forgetting to breathe. Excruciatingly, the seconds crawled to a minute. Alas, real life had a wicked knack for shattering even the most stubborn of whimsies and she finally broke free.

The young woman pulled away far enough only to take a quick, shallow breath and to venture a look directly into Ginji's eyes. She feared so much what they would tell—anger, pity, or worse, revulsion—that Natsumi wondered if she should just run off. But when his wide brown eyes merely blinked with placid bewilderment, she decided her farewell still wasn't enough. She leaned in.

"Natsu-_mmmmpph_..." Her name struggled to pass from Ginji's lips to hers, only to be hushed once more by the supple pillowing of her touch. Natsumi's kiss was insistent now, searching; as if to coax words she wanted to hear right out of his mouth. This time, though, the boy offered no sign of resistance as he began to melt into her desire.

_So, this is goodbye_, Ginji thought as he closed his eyes and surrendered. It astonished him that they could spend half-an-hour making small talk, stalling the inevitable when a kiss made everything so simple. On the other hand, his emotions had never been this confused, for he couldn't comprehend how it was possible that his heart felt so pained, yet at the same time, he could physically experience such… pleasure.

Tentatively, Ginji removed his hand from the rail and clumsily groped for somewhere on Natsumi to place it, sliding it from arm to shoulder, and then settling it behind her head with curious fingers stroking glossy raven hair. As he intoxicated himself on the pleasant mix of tartly sweet champagne and salty tears that lingered on her lips, Ginji finally realized that it wasn't that he didn't know _how_ to say goodbye, but that maybe he didn't _want_ to.

Because he was tired of having friends leave to become ghosts. Wasn't that why he escaped from Mugenjou in the first place? Yet, here he was on the outside, the same thing happening all over again – but with a beautiful girl who was so _alive_.

Ginji possessively wrapped his other arm around Natsumi's waist. _No more_. This was one ghost he wanted to chase and bring back from the haunted castle of his memory.

They surfaced for air, their breaths temporarily frozen and hanging in the night like a veil between them. When the cloud dispersed, Ginji had random spikes of mild current crackling about his body while he and Natsumi stared at each other as though shy strangers. She glided her arms from his neck and cradled his handsome, boyish face in her palms, plucking strands of her hair that had stuck to his hot, vividly blushing cheeks wet from the mingle of her tears and melted snow. It felt as if she was holding a dew-sprinkled newly-bloomed rosebud shined on by the rays of a morning sun.

"You see, I really don't want to go. I don't want to leave all of this—all of you—behind," Natsumi said. "I spent so many months trying very hard to imagine the notion of not seeing you and… and… I just couldn't. I… can't."

The cold breeze nipped at Ginji's lips and he restlessly craved her passionate warmth on them again, but his need for an explanation far outweighed his need for her touch. "So that's what's been bothering you these past couple of months? Then why… Why Kyoto? What… how is leaving…?" he stammered, not certain if he was posing the right questions. Of course, Ginji knew Natsumi had to go to Kyoto to study, but he sensed there was something more profound to her decision.

The former Honky Tonk waitress resignedly nestled her forehead against the retriever's chest where she caught a whiff of his distinct scent of baby soap with a trace of ozone from underneath his wool shirt.

"It's because I can't postpone my future waiting for you to decide your own --" Natsumi then added feebly, almost as though whispering to Ginji's heart, " – and if somehow, I had a… part in it."

But before Ginji could reply, she jerked her head away and shook it vehemently, wiping the tear streaks off her face with the back of her hand. "What am I saying?" Natsumi sheepishly groaned. "I don't even know why saying goodbye should hurt more now when I've already been missing you for four years, missed you in the time I wasted beyond the hour or two we spent at the Honky Tonk; always with a counter, a table, a barrier—something—between us. And it… it…"

"It just got wider," Ginji finished hoarsely. Natsumi gave a weak nod. "Natsumi-chan, I'm so sorry. It never occurred to me you felt this way. It's all my fault, I should've known."

She shook her head. "You've done nothing wrong. How could you have known when I kept my feelings to myself? You and Ban-san had so many things to deal with; you didn't need to be bothered by the ridiculous crush of a silly school girl."

"But you're not a school girl anymore, and I'm not the same person you thought you knew either," Ginji said. "I know one thing for sure, though, and it's that you'll always have a part in my future. I don't know what or how exactly, but you will."

The pair silently gazed out into opposite distances, Natsumi towards the neon lights and Ginji at the narrow darkness. "You're just saying that to make me feel better, aren't you?" she miserably muttered.

"I'm not, honestly. Why? Do you feel any better?"

"No." Natsumi answered unequivocally. She sniffled loudly, her weeping resumed.

"Aw, geez. You're crying again." Ginji hugged her to him and patted her head. "Don't do this to me. Please?"

Natsumi wriggled in the blond's embrace and craned her neck up to him. "Do this to you? What about you doing all this to _me_?" she retorted defiantly. "These past few days you avoided me, hardly spoke a single word. And all this time, I thought you didn't care I was leaving."

"I do care! A lot! But I was stupid. I didn't know what to say or do, so I kept quiet, I guess," Ginji piped up in his own defense. His voice rang adamant and clear in a tone rarely used in Natsumi's presence.

"Do you honestly think I wanted you to go away when all those things that are making me miss you are the very things that are making me –"

Ginji stopped.

And then a strange, indefinable sensation hit him. He and Natsumi traded wondrous wide-eyed blinks before Ginji noticed he was staring intently into the girl's face with her red nose; puffy, tired eyes; and loose tresses tangled around her cheeks like unruly vines. It was so unusual for him to find Natsumi looking so ruffled, vulnerable, and unpoised…

And yet, never had he seen anything so pretty.

Slowly, a low chuckle rumbled in Ginji's throat, which eventually burst out in a full-blown laugh.

Natsumi squinted and glared at him as though he were a madman. "What? What's so funny?" She lightly thumped Ginji's chest with her tiny fists in retaliation. Then, she blushed hotly and snatched her head to the side in embarrassment. "Oh dear. It's me. I look an awful mess, don't I?"

"No. Not at all." Impulsively, he picked the waitress up and happily whirled her around in a playful waltz.

"Gin-chan! Put me down! What do you think you're doing?"

He set Natsumi down on her feet and flashed her a coy smile. "Something I should've done a long time ago." Ginji bent over, and after a few false starts, managed to find a good angle for his first initiated kiss.

Caught by surprise, Natsumi nonetheless guided his awkward efforts by parting her lips willingly and letting him take her breath away, sighing involuntarily as the retriever's wandering caresses diffused waves of excitable electricity that literally sent tingles down her spine. At the same time, Natsumi noticed their bodies had been bound by what felt like thread. Without breaking contact, her inquisitive hands searched teasingly at Ginji's sides and back to find the source surreptitiously attached to his vest. She twirled the end around her finger, pulled the string, and let it float lazily to the ground.

To her bemused horror, Natsumi realized that not only had she and Ginji been kissing in public, but that the Honky Tonk gang had listened in as well. _No matter_, she thought giddily as she allowed Ginji to lavish a few more seconds of attention on her. If this was the only farewell they were afforded, she didn't care who knew.

At last, the young woman reluctantly separated herself from him. She cleared her throat. "Um, maybe we… someone might… you know…"

"Oh. Right." Ginji loosened his hold, but kept Natsumi within arm's reach.

"But that – was so nice," she purred, feeling a heat spread up her cheeks in shame for wanting more.

"Mm. But don't think I did it just to see you smile."

Natsumi suppressed the urge to do exactly that by coquettishly biting it back. "Well, do you see me smiling?"

"Nope. But one more try should do the trick." Ginji swept down, gently lifted the girl's chin, and planted a swift, chaste peck on her lips. The bashful corners of her mouth turned irresistibly.

"There. I knew I'd get back your smile sooner or later." He childishly pumped his arm in triumph.

"Gin-chan!" Natsumi pouted. "That's all I've been? A challenge?"

"You've always been a challenge. You think I like always having to lose to you?" Ginji smirked. "I'm just glad this is one challenge I _did_ win."

He playfully flicked the tip of her button nose with his finger. Lowering his voice in all seriousness, Ginji said, "I have no excuse for making you wait four years on me. But, if you'll let me, I'm… I'm willing to wait four more on you."

Natsumi gasped. Ginji gazed at her sincerely and whispered into her ear, "You will come back, won't you?"

"Oh, yes. Yes. I never said I wouldn't." She nodded enthusiastically. Lovingly brushing the boy's hair out of his eyes, she asked meekly, "Does that mean you'll miss me then? Not just my coffee, or my cooking, or my red scrunchie, but me?"

Ginji contemplated long and hard on the question, sending Natsumi into a mild fit of panic before staunchly answering,

_"No."_

"Huh? What do you mean - " She took a stunned step in reverse.

He laughed mischievously at her alarmed response. "I mean, what's to miss when there's so much of you to look forward to?"

Ginji winked with a proud sparkle in his eyes that made him seem like the most brilliant genius on earth having suddenly come up with a most clever plan.

"So… Where do I get on that slow train to Kyoto?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Natsumi squealed, punched Ginji on the shoulder, and kissed him again – in that order. He smiled, she smiled; the twin beams so bright it rivaled the light of the jealous moon.

For on the night they said goodbye, Ginji and Natsumi found what they were missing after all.

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_end_

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**A/N: **_For _ "**_P"_**, who's now taking her own college entrance exams. Whew. I finally finished this. Hope you liked. Good luck and all my prayers for your success! As for the rest of you, thanks for reading. Cheers! 


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